Shatter
by Cheeky Slytherin Lass
Summary: It takes just one moment for Augusta's life to fall apart.


_For the Title Prompt Competition. (Inspiration: Night of Hell)_

* * *

Augusta hesitates outside the door, frowning as she hears Neville's cries from inside. "Frank? Alice?" she calls, knocking. "I've brought some soup."

No answer. She feels a chill ripple down her spine. It isn't like them to not come to the door, or to leave their son to wail for so long. She turns the knob, her stomach growing sour when she realizes it's unlocked.

"Frank, dear, are you-?"

The sentence dies, and the pot of soup clatters noisily to the floor, its contents spilling over the carpet. Alice would have had a fit over the inevitable stain. But Alice will not notice. She and Frank are little more than unmoving piles of flesh and cloth on the floor.

Augusta rushes forward, her heart racing. _Not Frank. Not Alice. This is supposed to be over_ , she thinks, kneeling beside his son. She checks his wrist frantically, her fingers trembling as she searches for a pulse. Only when she finds the faint _thump, thump, thump_ in his veins does she realize she's holding her breath.

"Frank, dear. Alice. Wake up," she urges.

Frank's eyes open first, and Augusta can feel her world shatter. His eyes are glazed, unfocused. He looks at her, a lazy smile on his face like his mother isn't quite there. His eyes close again, and he falls back.

Augusta takes a deep breath. She has to be strong now. She conjures her Patronus and sends it on its way with a message for John Dawlish before leaving the room to enter the nursery.

Neville is soaked and shivering. Her heart aches. How long has he been like this? "Hush, love," she soothes, picking him up gently. "Gran is here. Gran has you now. Let's get you cleaned up."

…

"I don't know," Augusta says for what has to be hundredth time that night. "I was bringing them dinner. Always do once a week to give them time to relax."

John nods, and she can see him struggling to remain professional. Frank and Alice were than just fellow Aurors. They were his friends. "You didn't see anyone else?"

Augusta shakes her head, bouncing Neville gently on her knee. "Whoever did this was long gone by the time I got here," she answers.

"M-Mu-" Neville murmurs fitfully, and Augusta feels her heart breaking all over again.

"They'll need to be transported to St. Mungo's," the Healer on duty announces gravely.

"For treatment?" Augusta asks.

The frown that she receives is answer enough. Her fears are confirmed. "It's outside of my area of expertise," the young witch answers, choosing her words carefully. "Someone with more experience in Curse effects will have to look them over."

Augusta holds Neville closer to her chest, kissing the top of his head.

"I'm sorry," John says quietly, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder.

She wants to shrug him off, to tell him that his sympathy isn't going to fix her son and his wife. But for the first time in her life, there's no fight left in her. She closes her eyes, trying to stop the tears from falling.

…

She watches as a group of Healers whisper among themselves, casting nervous glances her way. Augusta doesn't have to wonder what's going on. They're deciding who will be left with the task of delivering the news to the infamously difficult Longbottom matriarch.

A young man with messy blond hair and tired blue eyes seems to draw the short straw. He approaches her carefully, fear heavy in his face.

"Well?" she snaps, praying for a miracle, praying that this hell will end.

"They were subjected to the Cruciatus Curse," he says, wringing his hands together nervously. "Typically, a case isn't this serious. But on rare occasions, prolonged exposure to such- to such torture can cause the mind to snap."

"There has to be something you can do," she says so sharply that Neville begins to cry. "Hush, love. Hush."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Longbottom. But once the mind shatters in such a way, there's no bringing it back. Potioneers have been working on a solution for decades, so, maybe in the future there will be more that we can do. Until then, we will have to keep them here."

"I- I see," she manages, her throat suddenly tight. "May I see them before I go?"

"We're still getting them settled in. They won't be allowed visitors until the morning."

She wants to argue, wants to fight. But tonight, she is too tired. Everything inside her aches, and she doesn't have it in her to protest now. "I shall return tomorrow then," she says curtly, climbing to her feet.

…

It takes nearly three hours to get Neville to fall asleep. The poor dear has never spent a night away from his parents. Even as young as he is, he can tell that something is not right.

Augusta doesn't have the strength to make it to her bed. She slumps in the nearest armchair, covering herself with a blanket, her heart heavy.

She's too old to raise another child, but there is no one else who can take him in. Frank and Alice are alive, but it isn't much of a life. One night- a night that had started out so completely ordinary and dull- is all it takes for her to lose everything.


End file.
